


What Happened in '91

by bazandoreos



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: 16-17, :/, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Fluff and Smut, Gay Richie Tozier, High School AU, Junior year, M/M, New Kid Eddie Kaspbrak, POV Richie Tozier, Reddie, Some angst, haven't really figured this shit out yet, long story, sort of making it up as I go ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 13:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazandoreos/pseuds/bazandoreos
Summary: Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh, Stanly Uris, Mike Hanlon, and Ben Honscom have been friends since elementary school. Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak have been friends since birth. Eddie finally convinced his mother to let him attend public school at Derry High School with Bill, but things don't seem to be changing for the better.Richie meets Eddie during their junior year homecoming dance in an awkward predicament, and the two somehow manage to become close. Richie is determined to save Eddie from his family dynamic, but how far can he go?Reddie Story!





	1. A Bowtie and Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story! I'll try to update as much as possible, at least once a week. Enjoy!

He was wearing a suit. With a bowtie and handkerchief and everything. The only reason I let my gaze linger was because it fit him so well, his pant legs just below his ankles, the buttons of his blazer lying flatly against his torso. 

He held a payphone to his ear and whispered into it with his hand over the receiver. He gazed at the ground, and I realized, after standing there for longer than I should have, that he was outlining the tiles with his eyes. His left hand gripped the telephone cord and spun it around his finger over and over again until the tip had turned red. The phone made a dig sound as he hung up, but he didn’t stop looking at the ground. He leaned into the gap between the phone box and the wall and remained still for a while. I just watched him silently, standing awkwardly in his presence. 

That’s when he started crying. I flinched when he brought his hands up to his face and wiped his cheeks. He tilted his head back in a painful gesture but stopped when his eyes met mine. His entire expression crumpled tightly as he sobbed. Then he marched quickly past me, rubbing his eyes. I turned back to watch him leave, and I was shocked that my feet had started walking after him. I restrained myself when I realized how silly it would be to run after a stranger.

“Do you need something, mister?” a woman walked behind the desk beside me and sat on a large swivel chair. I shook my head, dazed and sloppy. My tie hung loosely around my neck and part of my button up was hanging out of my pants. I did it on purpose, to be funny or whatever, and even though everyone laughed, it wasn’t really that funny.

The receptionist examined me with pursed lips and sighed. “Go home,” she said loudly, moving her mouth dramatically as if I wasn’t fluent in English. I gave a thumbs up and smiled stupidly, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. She gave me a firm nod and shooed me with her fat hand.

I didn’t go home, obviously. I walked out of the principal’s office and immediately turned left instead of right, which was the exit. I was surprised, in my intoxicated state, that the receptionist hadn’t run after me.

Though the auditorium was full of sweaty teenagers and blasting music, I spotted Beverly instantly. She was near the center of the room, dancing wildly. Ben was sitting alone at a table, watching her with admiration and sadness. I walked as casually as possible (without stumbling) toward him and plopped onto the bench next to him.

He nodded despondently at me as I reached around his back and hung onto his shoulder. “Ben,” I grumbled, “how are you?” 

He laughed, though it sounded like a huff of sarcastic air. “Great,” he said over the music, glancing back toward Bev, who was now dancing rather intimately with a guy I’d never seen before. 

I nodded. “Ah, whatta shame. But lemme tell you, Benjamin, yer quitea catch. Get a good gal, eh? With nice, laj breasts,” I said in a Voice, fondling my chest suggestively. Ben sighed heavily, unamused. “Ah, srry, ‘m a lil’ drunk,” I slurred, exaggerating my drunkenness.

I released Ben’s shoulder to hug Mike as he approached our table. “Miiiike,” I howled. 

“Wow, you’re still pretty drunk, huh?” he giggled. He was a little buzzed himself.

“Yep! Wasted! Fucking hammered.” He gave me a concerned expression and sat next to me. “You good, buddy?” he asked.

I thought the question was odd, since I assumed I was convincing. The truth was, I wasn’t good. Ever since I saw that handsome guy in the principal’s office, I felt kind of breathless, like I had missed something important.

Bev brought two six-packs of Budweiser to the homecoming dance, three of which I downed. Bev, Mike, and Ben also had a fair amount. (Stan was our designated driver, to which he had only agreed to because he wasn’t planning on drinking anyway.) After the third can, I decided I wanted candy to rinse out the bitter taste, so I traipsed to the principal’s office, where there was always a bowl of peppermint candies sitting on the desk. That’s where I found the boy with freckles crying into a telephone. 

(I didn’t even get to snatch any peppermints.)

Mike nudged me with his elbow. “Richie seriously, are you okay? If you’re sick, let’s just ask Stan to take us back to Bev’s place.”

“Nah, I just gotta rest for a little bit,” I said, lying my head against the (dirty) table. 

That was the last thing I remembered before waking up in the passenger’s side of Stan’s car. I opened my eyes and turned to the window. It was dark, streetlights flashing past us. I still felt a little drowsy and incoherent.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Stan said. I couldn’t tell if he was irritated or if he was just making an observation. 

“Mmhm,” I hummed. 

“Mike carried you out to the car like a baby,” he snickered. Mike, Ben, and Bev were all asleep in the back, leaning on each other fondly. If I had a camera with me, I would have shot a picture immediately.

Stan woke everyone up when we arrived at Bev’s apartment. “You guys can go right back to sleep when we get inside,” he whispered. Stan was soft when he needed to be.

We all slept in the living room together. Bev lied on the couch, I curled up on the recliner, and Mike, Ben, and Stan stayed on the floor with blankets and pillows. 

I was tired, and I was starting to get a headache, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept seeing that boy in my head. I tried to remember all the details, even though I was pretty drunk at the time. His most prominent feature was his physique, meaning he was noticeably small. He had freckles. And large eyes. And pretty lips. And neat hair. 

He was cute. 

And then I fell asleep.


	2. Probable, But Unlikely

I woke up half-way on the recliner, most of my body sliding down toward the floor. No one was in the living room, but I could hear voices trailing from the kitchen, and I could smell food in the air.

Beverly was pouring Mike black instant coffee, Ben was eating from a plate of bacon, and Stan was chewing on an apple while reading the newspaper.

I sat next to Stan at the island counter and grabbed Mike’s chipped coffee mug to sip from it. “Hungover?” Mike asked. He seemed a little sick too, but he didn’t have a high tolerance for alcohol anyway. Bev sat across from me and ran her hand down her face. She looked pretty fucked up. Ben did too. Stan almost had a triumphant look on his face, like he was proud of being sober. I guess he should have been.

I groaned in confirmation, and everyone sort of nodded and huffed too, as if to say, “Relatable.” (Except for Stan, that little shit.) 

“Did you guys at least have fun?” Bev asked in the weary atmosphere. Ben and Mike smiled a little and nodded. I nodded too, even though I was still plagued by that boy from the principal’s office. He was ruling my inebriated memory, so I couldn’t actually say whether I had fun.

Stan shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I was busy making sure you idiots weren’t getting into too much trouble.” He snickered and bit into his apple with a loud crunch. 

Ben shifted in his stool uncomfortable and asked, “Did you have fun, Bev?” He sounded kind of earnest, a little pathetic, if you asked me. 

But still, Bev smiled warmly at him, making his chubby cheeks flush. “Lots,” she winked.

Ben cleared his throat nervously. “Who, uh—who was that boy you were dancing with?”

The question seemed to sink into her, and she beamed the more she recalled. “Oh! I totally forgot!” she nearly squealed. “Bill Denbrough. Do you guys know him? He has a stutter?” She looked at us for a response, but we all shook our heads and shrugged. She sighed tenderly and leaned back in her chair. “He was a little timid at first but really sweet. I think you guys would like him.” She jolted up again, like she surprised herself. “Oh, he gave me his telephone number.” Then she climbed from her stool and wandered into the living room.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Mike, Stan, and I turned to Ben. He was blushing and biting his lip, as if to keep himself from bursting into a fit. “You okay?” Mike asked. He was always the one to ask.

Ben sighed and squeezed his eyes with his hand. “Yeah, I guess. I just—I can’t—” he stammered, “I just can’t fuckin’ believe this shit.” It was silent between us after his unexpected cursing. Everyone knew Ben was in love with Beverly. You didn’t have to ask, just watch: The way his face lit up when they were together, the way he blushed when she was even slightly flirtatious, the way he gazed at her from afar. It was obvious that he was always thinking about her. Bev probably knew it herself, but no one asked her about it. I assumed everyone feared what she might say and what they’d have to relay to Ben.

Beverly came back with a torn piece of lined paper with a number written in marker across it. “We should ask him to hang out,” she said, admiring the paper itself. Ben was biting his lip so hard it looked like it would burst.

“Not today,” I groaned, partially for Ben and partially because I really did have a hangover and I wasn’t about to go out and play.

“Then tomorrow,” Bev pressed. We all glanced at Ben, saying, “Sorry, I don’t think she’s letting this one down,” with our eyes. “Then it’s decided.” She nodded once sternly, making the decision official. “Let’s meet here at noon.”

***

My hangover started to fade after I walked home. It was already 3:00PM, but I had told my folks I was staying at Stan’s after the dance. 

I started lying to my parents more often since freshman year. First it was, “I’m going to Ben’s for our tutoring session,” in 9th grade. (I was going to Mike’s for a huge party that weekend.) Then, “Stan and I are taking his cousins trick-or-treating for Halloween, so I’ll come back home tomorrow,” in 10th grade. (Bev and I were going out to Portsmouth for the night since her aunt was gone. She wanted to get laid and I just wanted to hang out in a motel with free cable.) And of course, “Stan and I are going to homecoming for free food since we don’t have dates. I’ll be back tomorrow.” (I was going to get wasted and spend the night at a girl’s house.)

I unlocked the door with my spare key instead of knocking because Mom hated when I knocked. “How was the dance?” Dad asked from the kitchen table as I took my shoes off. He was sitting on the couch reading a book. Probably one of his si-fi collections. 

“Fine. Kind of boring,” I said, trying to sound as normal and not-hungover as possible. He nodded. 

Mom poked her head from behind the kitchen wall and smiled at me. “Yeah? Sorry to hear that. Any good food, at least?” 

I walked toward the kitchen and stood next to her. She was making chicken noodle soup in a big pot. “Nothing as good as your cooking, Ma,” I said. 

“Don’t call me ‘Ma,’” she laughed, “it makes me feel old.” 

Mom was beautiful and smiled often. Though she was getting older, well into her forties, she still had a youthful vibrance behind her crows’ feet. She looked best in the summer, when she wore her sun dresses and did her hair up nice. She looked like that then, with her dark hair in two braids going down her scalp and bunched into a ponytail in the back, even though it was getting colder. I liked that she didn’t wear it like most women her age, with the giant waves and poofy shape.

I ate an early dinner with Mom and Dad and stayed up playing cards with Dad. We didn’t do much else together, but that was fine because we did so often, and we talked while we played. Dad learned a lot about me through slap jack, and I learned a lot about Dad through an abundance of other games. I was pretty good at rummy simply because of our bonding experiences.

I went to sleep feeling happy, but discontent. Something was missing—I could feel it—but I couldn’t place what it was. I had just spent a pleasant night with my best friends, and I was even fed bacon and coffee with honey (yeah, that’s right, coffee with honey), yet I wasn’t satisfied. Maybe I needed to jerk off. But I was tired. And I was pretty certain that that was not the solution.

“It’ll go away,” I mumbled to myself as I pulled my blanket to my shoulders. “Yeah, everything’ll be fine.”

***

It was 11:32AM when I woke up. I took a deep breath to inhale every bit of rest I could before walking to the bathroom to take a piss. As I stood in front of the toilet, I remembered. Bev. Bill Denbrough. Hanging out. Noon. “Fuck,” I groaned.

I got dressed in my typical long-sleeve under short-sleeve and jeans, pulled the letterman jacket I stole from Mike on, and shoved a piece of toast in my mouth before saying bye to Mom and Dad. “Going to Stan’s with the guys and Bev!” I called, stepping out the door.

“Have fun!” Mom yelled back, and Dad waved.

I biked to Bev’s in my Raleigh as fast as I could, arriving two minutes late according to my watch. Ben, Mike, Stan, and Beverly were standing in front of the apartment where the building met the road. I slid to a stop.

“Where’s the famous Bill at?” I asked, out of breath.

“He’s late,” Bev pouted. I spotted Ben rolling his eyes behind her. 

I opened my mouth to crack a joke about how he probably rode by, took one look at Stan’s face, and bolted in the opposite direction before the sound of tires against dirt filled the air somehow loudly. (Thank god because that joke was really bad and wouldn’t have gotten many chucks.) Suddenly, a figure stopped smoothly next to me on a giant bike.

A boy leaned his leg against the gravel and panted. “Sssorry I’m l-l-late,” he stuttered. The rest of us stared at him, oddly shocked. He was more handsome than I had pictured him, with red hair and grey eyes.

“It’s okay. Glad you could make it,” Beverly smiled, though it looked a little different from the way she smiled at the rest of us. 

Bill looked around at us and said, “I’m B-Bill. N-n-nice to mmeet youu.” He had a friendly expression until he saw Stan, I noticed. Instead his eyes opened wide, surprised or something. Stan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t avoid eye-contact either. They seemed to stare at each other for a while.

I cleared my throat. “I’m Richie Tozier. But you can call me Dick.” I winked. Bill looked confused by nodded anyway.

“He’s joking,” Stan said. “He may be a dick, but call him Richie.” Bill seemed to like something about what he said because he grinned widely at him, like it was uncontrollable. “And, uh, I’m Stan.” And then, to my fucking amazement, Stanley blushed like an absolute idiot. Bill blushed back, and I swore my soul left my body.

“I’m Mike.”

“And I’m Ben Hanscom.” He sounded formal. Kind of bitter.

Bill smiled at us before he raised his eyebrows. “I-I ffforgot. Mm-my friend is c-c-coming—” Right as he finished his mess of a sentence, another bike pulled up beside Bill. I couldn’t see them behind Bill’s countenance, but I heared them gasp for air.

“Yyyou oh-okay E-Eddie?” Bill asked. There was silence, and then a sharp gust of air and another gasp.

“Ugh, yeah,” the boy said in a high voice.

“Th-these are Bu-Bu-Beverly’s fr-friends,” Bill gestured to us with his hand.

“Uh, hi,” the boy said. “I’m Eddie Kaspbrak.” The group went over their names again, but this time I was last.

I bent over my handlebars so I could see Eddie as I introduced myself, and Bill backed his bike up when he noticed my effort. 

It was like one of those gameshows where there’s a prize behind a curtain, and the moment the contestant finally wins, they lose their fucking mind over the greatness of the trophy. Behind the Bill-Curtain was Eddie Kaspbrak, the small boy with freckles and large eyes and pretty lips and neat hair. I did lose my fucking mind, but silently. Lighting struck my chest, and the gameshow audience clapped and cheered in my head.

I watched as Eddie’s face turned crimson. He remembered me. He totally remembered me. “Richie,” was all I could say. He nodded and turned his gaze straight in front of him, not looking at anything in particular, but I could tell that he was trying very hard to avoid confrontation with me.

It was a good feeling, seeing this boy flustered because of me.

He was cute.

And then it started.


	3. Tag, No Tag Backs

Bill suggested that we went to the Barrens, which felt like a suspiciously good coincidence, since Ben built our clubhouse beneath the Barrens’ grounds. We all agreed and let Bill direct us, even though we all knew where it was. He seemed like a leader type, the kind of guy you could rely on. 

We had to ride quickly behind him, which was a pain, but he looked damned cool in front of me on his huge silver bike. Bev rode closest next to him on his left, Eddie to his right, who I couldn’t stop observing.

Meeting was another suspiciously good coincidence, or at least I hoped it was. He looked different without a suit on, but not less attractive. He wore a sweater, and the cuffs of his jeans were tucked into dark blue Dr. Martens. His outfit was simple, so the fanny pack really stood out. I was amused by how confident and ordinary his demeanor was with such a silly accessory wrapped around his waist. “He probably wears it all the time then,” I reasoned, laughing under my breath.

We all stopped at the Kissing Bridge and let our bikes fall to the ground. The stoop that lead down to the bottom of the Barrens and the Kenduskeag Stream was steep, so it took us a few minutes to scoot to the bottom. 

“We have a clubhouse, if you want to see it,” Ben said to Bill. Bill turned to Eddie with a, “Will you be okay if we go?” look, and Eddie nodded. He seemed hesitant, for some reason.

We followed Ben, who knew the path by heart. I was surprised that we never got lost down there; every tree looked the same to me. Ben stopped and turned to us. “Well,” he sighed contently, “here it is.” He pointed to a large hole in the ground. 

Eddie made an “eep” noise and tugged on Bill’s flannel sleeve. “No. Absolutely not,” he said. “There are definitely rats in there. And spiders! So many spiders.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Stan said, “I have shower caps for everyone, so we don’t get spiders in our hair.” Bill glanced at him and giggled, which was disgusting.

Eddie shook his head violently. “There’s no way I’m going in there.”

“C-C-Come on Eddie. I bet it’s r-r-really c-cool. Ru-right Ben?” Bill asked.

Ben nodded his head. “Yeah, we have comics, a swing, books, a hammock,” he listed. 

Eddie paused. “What comics?” he asked slowly. 

“New Mutants issue 100,” I interjected. I could see pink rising in his cheeks.

“That’s the newest issue,” he whispered.

My heart jumped, just seeing how excited he was. “And the last, unfortunately,” I said, a little breathless. 

He swallowed and brought his attention back to Ben. “Yeah, I’ll go in.”

The clubhouse Ben built was impressive, as was everything else he constructed. He turned a few lanterns on and lifted his hand to the den, presenting it to our guests. “Welcome to our humble abode,” he said.

Eddie immediately walked to the bookshelf and shuffled between comics. “Weapon X, Armageddon 2001, Deathstroke the Terminator, Darkhawk Volume 1,” he mumbled to himself. He caught we watching him, and he ogled back in amazement. “This is the newest stuff.”

I nodded, pleased. “Pretty great, huh? You can read any of them.” He stared back at the shelf and flipped through a couple more before grabbing Wolverine #2, then awkwardly fumbled to the hammock, questioning whether he was permitted sit there.

I laughed. “You can sit wherever you want.” He nodded but ensured that the ropes were tight and fastened before sitting upright at the edge. “You’re gonna slip if you sit like that,” I said and sat next to him in the empty space. “Gotta balance the weight.”

My thigh tapped against his, and he jumped a little. He blushed but didn’t move. Instead he opened the magazine and looked at the images close to his face. “I wanna read too,” I said, leaning closer. His ears were nearly luminating red as he lowered the comic to his legs.

I couldn’t focus on the pages, so I just sat silently, keeping my eyes on the drawings as Eddie sifted through them. I listened to Bev and Ben talking to Bill behind us and heard Stan and Mike laughed near the swing. It felt right, in the moment. Being next to this boy I had just met, feeling the pressure between are legs as if it were burning, inhaling the toxins of fulfilling youth.

“This,” I thought, “this is what I was missing.”

“Hey!” Mike called, dragging me out of my euphoria. “This whole clubhouse thing is pretty great, but,” he smiled at us sharply, as if he was about to suggest we partake in a sinful activity, “I need a little adventure.” 

He looked up at Stan, who was utterly confused by the situation. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked nervously. “I’m not doing anything illegal.” Mike stood up from the swing and brought his body close to Stan’s. (I noticed Bill frowning in the corner of my eye.) Then Mike reached around him, smacked his ass, and screamed, “TAG!”  
Stan was stunned and red as Mike quickly crawled out of the burrow. We all watched Stan in awe, wondering what was happening and what to do. Then Stan jumped forward and tapped Beverly on the arm. “Tag!” he yelled and ran up the latter. 

Bev didn’t waste any time pushing Bill on the chest. “Tag, no tag backs!” Eddie and I made a break for it and bolted up the latter, running from the hole in the ground. Ben came up and waddled behind a tree. I think we all knew that Bill could have tagged him but didn’t. That was the kind of guy Bill appeared to be.

Bev was right, I did come to like him.

Bill skulked slowly from the dirt and eyed those of us who were still visible. He got his feet on the ground and immediately ran for Stan. (Obviously. Jesus.)

Eddie was close by, so I trotted toward him, careful that no one was running toward me. “Hey,” I whispered, as if Bill could hear me. He was probably pretty far out then, chasing Stan, who was on the swim team. “Wanna team up?” Eddie opened his mouth to say something but stopped through his inhale and darted in the opposite direction. I reached out and called, “I’m not it!”

Then I was pushed with two hands on my back so hard I nearly fell over. “Tag, no tag backs!” Stan panted.

“Bill caught you?” I asked, surprised he could catch up.

“Guess… he’s on… track team,” Stan said between breaths.

I sighed. “Know where anyone is?”

Stan shook his head. “I think Bev and Ben are huddled somewhere back there,” he pointed to our left. “Toward the stream.”

I speed-walked through the trees, looking around in case I could catch someone hiding nearby. I could hear the water trickling close, but I still hadn’t found anybody, and I assumed no one would cross the dirty greywater. (They better not have, since that expanded the territory by a lot.)

I started walking parallel to the stream when I heard leaves crunching on the ground. I smirked and pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Got you now, kiddies,” I whispered to myself. I attempted to walk quietly, but there were leaves everywhere, piercing the air with every step. “Fuck it,” I said and sprinted toward the sound instead.

I could hear someone running away from me through the trees, and I could tell they were slower than me. I had almost reached them when the running seemed to stop, so I came to a halt on my chucks. “Hiding, huh?” I asked loudly for my victim to hear.

Loud panting came ringing from behind a nearby tree. I approached it slowly and jumped it front of it. I assumed it would be Ben, but Eddie was slumped there instead, heaving for breath. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked. He didn’t answer but unzipped his fanny pack and brought an inhaler to his mouth. He sucked on it and gasped. 

“I have asthma, you asshole,” he laughed. I laughed a little too, relieved that he wasn’t dying or something.

“You didn’t have to run for so long. You could have said you had asthma, and I would have gone after someone else.”

“Yeah right,” he scoffed, “and let you beat me by default? No way.”

I nodded and tapped him on the shoulder. “Well, I guess I beat you fair-and-square then, huh?” I smiled. Eddie blushed and tucked a small fluff of hair behind his ear, even though it was too short to remain there and sprung back out instantly.

I released his shoulder and put my hands in my pockets to occupy their nervous tendencies. “So uh, you remember me, right?” I asked. 

He groaned and covered his face with both his hands. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.”

“So, I’ll take that as a yes?” 

The atmosphere wasn’t awkward or tense, but it wasn’t relaxed either. I felt a swell of longing in my throat, like I needed something from him. Did he feel it too?

Eddie averted his eyes to the tall patches of grass nearby and shrugged. “Yeah, I remember. Pretty weird. You, I mean. The crying was weird too, but the stupid look on your face was worse,” he snickered. I blushed in embarrassment. Did I really look that stupid? I guess I was drunk, so I shouldn’t have been so surprising. 

I cleared my throat nervously and asked (like an idiot), “Why were you crying?”

He looked at me questionably, like it wasn’t just ridiculous that I was asking, but he couldn’t even believe I had asked in the first place. I didn’t know if I was supposed to apologize and say, “Forget it,” so I stood there and waited for him to say something, anything. Then his face broke into a smile. A hysterical, giggly smile. I blinked in surprise. Now I really didn’t know what to say.

“You really like to get to the meat of stuff, huh,” he laughed. 

I couldn’t stop making a fool of myself, which was frustrating. I felt like my mouth was full of toilet paper, and I couldn’t say anything I wanted to say, anything coherent and sane. “Sorry, was that not cool to ask? Damnit.”

“I mean, it’s a little weird, I guess. Maybe it wouldn’t be if we had exchanged more than one conversation.”

“We talked about comic books! And then asthma and tag!” I defended myself. 

He laughed again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” His smile started to fade, and his expression became more serious. “I wasn’t supposed to go to homecoming,” he sighed, trying to act casually, though he looked pained. “So, I snuck out with Bill, and… Well, my mom found out and called the principal’s office. It just. Fucking sucked.” He tightened his shoulders to his neck, then released them as he exhaled. He turned back to me and offered a small smile. “It’s dumb, right? It’s like I’m a middle schooler or something.”

“It’s not dumb,” I said. I wasn’t trying to be timid, but I felt like I was. My voice was small, and I couldn’t look at him directly. “I mean, it’s dumb that your mom wouldn’t let you go to a school dance, but it’s not dumb that it sucked.”

I glanced at him and saw that he was staring at me. His expression was difficult to read, but it was sort of desperate. A do-you-really-mean-it? look. I was glad to hear someone yell across from us because I didn’t know what to say or how to make him feel better.

“Is Eddie it?” Beverly called. 

“Nope! I spared him!”

“That’s against the fucking rules, Trashmouth!” I trotted towards her, feeling queasy. It was like I was abandoning Eddie because I could never talk when I needed to. Of course, a “silly” guy like me was scared to be serious. I didn’t even know how to have a conversation without tainting it with profanity. 

“I’m all burnt out,” I told her and tapped her forearm. “Tag, no tag backs. I’m gonna head home.”

“What?” Bev seemed unphased by my tag, though she had been excited about the game at the beginning. “It’s not even—” she grabbed my wrist to check my own watch, “—3 o’clock yet!”

I shrugged. “When you’re tired, you’re tired.”

Footsteps tapped on the leaves behind me. Eddie jogged to my side and said, “Me too. I’m gonna go,” to Beverly, clearly avoiding my existence.

Bev peeked at me and curled her lips into a devilish smile. “Oooooh, is that soooo?” she cooed. “Then don’t mind me, I’ll be sure to tell the others.” She winked at me (being annoyingly obvious) and ran back into the trees.

Eddie began walking to the edge of the Barrens without saying anything. “He’s probably mad,” I thought, nearly panicking. I hadn’t given him much comfort when he was being honest and vulnerable, and then I just walked away. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—

“Where are we going?” 

I flinched, following Eddie toward the Kissing Bridge and our bikes. He was still facing forward, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Huh?” I sounded stupid.

“Are you actually tired or are we going somewhere?” He climbed over the wooden fence and stumbled as he landed. I jumped over it, and even though I wasn’t really trying to show off, I wondered if he thought my agility was cool.

The top of the Kissing Bridge hung behind him like a halo. He was looking at me expectantly, but all I could think about was how the view seemed like a giant message. “Kiss de girl,” played to Sebastian the crab’s tune in my head. “So?” he implored.

I cleared my throat. “I don’t know. I was just planning on going home and playing cards with my dad,” I blurted.

Eddie choked, “That’s so lame,” and chuckled furiously. 

Stupid stupid stupid stupid. 

“Well,” he sighed, seemingly content with his chucks, “I guess we have school tomorrow, huh? Meet Bill and me for lunch. We usually eat in Mrs. Mitson’s empty classroom. You know, that one math teacher.” I nodded mostly because I was stuck thinking about how I was about to hang out with Eddie Kaspbrak at school and couldn’t think of anything to say, but also because I did know Mrs. Mitson. I only recalled the name because she was Ben’s calculus teacher, and when I went to hang out with him, I’d see her and whisper, “Mrs. Titson’s at it again,” to Ben. (Mrs. Mitson had huge tits that she wrapped in the tightest shirts. It should have been a crime to teach high schoolers in attire like that.)

Eddie lifted his bike from the ground but stood in place. “Have fun playing cards with your dad,” he said. “See you tomorrow.” And then he rode down the street and back into town.

“See you tomorrow,” I breathed, but he was gone.


End file.
